


An Unsavory Dalliance

by orphan_account



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 09:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: LaCroix and Nines get involved in something that neither of them really thought through. Porn with a few tiny vestigial limbs of plot





	An Unsavory Dalliance

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a while. I've tweaked and changed it a million times and I'm still not completely happy with it but at this point I don't think I'll ever be. So, I'm just gonna upload and hope people enjoy it ^_^

LaCroix didn't know why it had happened. He barely understood how it had happened. He supposed the man he'd fed from before giving his address had been drunker than expected, he'd had such a long week, and then Nines had felt the need to confront him behind the stage afterwards. It was the perfect storm for something like this.

The Anarch's words had washed over him, more of the same complaints he'd heard a thousand times before, in the same rough, angry voice he was used to. Bored and tired, he would admit that he'd replied with words somewhat intended to coax Nines into that signature Brujah rage, and before he knew it, he'd been grabbed by the throat. On any other night, that would have gotten him impaled by the Sheriff. That night, however, LaCroix couldn't help but be pliant beneath those large hands, surrounded by his deeply masculine scent. There were literal hundreds, possibly thousands of other men that the Prince could have had on that night to satisfy the little urge that still lingered from his time alive, but he knew then which one he wanted. Without giving it much thought, he flared half a blood pool's worth of presence, piling on the best of his abilities to make himself look desirable... or at least, harder to hate. Contrary to what he might have said, LaCroix knew that Nines was no idiot, and he picked up on his intentions easily.  
  
He'd laughed and mocked him for a moment. But then, pushed on by disciplines carefully honed over 200 years, he kissed him. Just behind the stage curtain, up against the wall of Nocturne Theatre, he allowed bloody Nines Rodriguez inside of him. He'd fucked him powerfully, better than he'd had in years, and in the heat of it all, stupidly, so very stupidly, they had taken each other's vitae.

Nines had left before the blood and seed had even dried, but the memory of his hands around his throat remained vivid in LaCroix's mind.

 

\---

 

It was not too long after that that their little "arrangement" had started.

When Nines was far away from that awful man, his awful, pretty lips and his awful, hypnotic eyes, he vowed to never go there again, ever. He felt disgusting to have fucked someone he considered scum, just because said scum had happened to be handsome and willing to suck him off. How fucking embarrassing to have been taken in and used by LaCroix, to have gotten hard over that pretentious piece of trash and given him the satisfaction of his dick.

The sex had been amazing, though, and that fact gnawed at Nines like a worm. Christ, he hadn't been a teenager in nearly a century, hadn't even been alive for most of that time, so why couldn't he get those thoughts out of his head? Sometimes he would get so fucking excited just over seeing a guy in a dark suit and that was how he knew - he was in too deep. Way, way too deep.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing, marching up to Venture Tower and asking for the top floor, but that didn't stop him. He told the desk it was a family emergency and that he needed to talk to LaCroix immediately, and the guy actually put him through.

"Who is this?" came the voice of the man he craved, snippy and demanding as always. Well, except for when he had a fat cock up his ass.

"Hey, LaCroix... it's me. Nines. Look, I don't wanna bullshit my way into your office, I just wanna talk to you. Not about politics."

For a good few seconds, there was silence, rather than the ranting and raving he expected. He'd actually managed to shut Sebastian LaCroix up, a feat he'd been attempting for a long time now. Finally, in a somewhat strained voice, he answered.

"Fine. Come up."

It was nice to know that Nines wasn't the only one who was desperate, then.

 

 

When he entered the Prince's office, he was baffled by the fact that apparently at no point during the furnishing process had anyone thought 'maybe more than five paintings is a bit much'. LaCroix really was the most ridiculous caricature of the Camarilla he'd ever met... and yet, even looking at how his office had a fucking fireplace, he didn't feel the usual resentment towards him. God, what was he doing?

"What is this about then, Ni- Rodriguez?" said the man himself from behind his desk, his tone dismissive but a lot less hostile than he was used to.

"Oh come on," he said, "you know full well what I'm here for. I can't get you out of my head. I liked fucking you, and I know you liked it too."

"Unbelievable. You come here, into my own office when I have a city to run, to speak filth and to proposition me-"

"Yep. Like you ever get your hands dirty when you've got a ring of suckups to run your city for you. Bet you've got plenty of time to get fucked, so how about it?"

"And how exactly do you think insulting myself, my supporters and my leadership style will help your case?"

"Well, you haven't kicked me out yet, that's a plus. You want me to just suck up to you like everyone else? That wasn't what happened the other night."

"Nines, if you can't manage even basic levels of civility, get out."

"Fine! Fine. I can play nice." He approached his desk, dirty boots walking all over his pristine floors, and Lacroix watched him hesitantly as he approached but made no move to stop him. "You're the hottest guy in this whole city, is that what you want to hear? So goddamned gorgeous. I don't like the things you say, but damn, I love your voice."

Lacroix made a small, sweeping hand gesture and for a moment Nines was confused, but he soon saw that he was telling his Sheriff to leave. When the door had shut, he locked his eyes on Nines. "You cannot simply worm your way in with empty flattery."

"It's not empty. I wasn't lying when I said I can't stop thinking about you - god, no one's ever made me come as hard as you did."

He saw his cheeks colour with vitae at that, his grey eyes flare as his mask slipped. He sighed. "...I believe that we may have ingested too much of each others' blood. This is all simply the work of an early blood bond, and we could crush it now by abstaining from such... activities."

He actually had a good point for once, so why couldn't Nines bring himself to give a shit? "You don't want that, though, I can tell. You been thinking about me too?"

The look on his face told him that he had. "It would be foolish at best to indulge this kind of thing with the leader of a violent faction set on destabilising my city."

"I thought we agreed no politics."

"You have not gotten me to agree to anything, do not get ahead of yourself."

He was frosty, of course. He was probably about as ashamed of all this as Nines was, even though he'd initiated it. He wouldn't get anywhere by talking, not when LaCroix was such a proud and stubborn man. He needed something risky.

He saw him put his guard up, lips lifted to reveal a hint of fang as Nines surged towards him, but he didn't pull any disciplines or put up a real defense. He pretty much let himself be grabbed by Nines, one hand on his wrist, one in his hair, and a thigh up and next to his as he leaned over him.

"Rodriguez-!"

Before he could launch into some rant about manners and proprietary to save face, Nines pulled his lips against his own. He felt him relax into him, reciprocating enthusiastically, telling him things with his tongue that his pride would not allow him to say in words.

He had soft hair, he noticed, and it felt nice in Nines' hand when he pulled at it. His hands wandered downwards, cupping his jaw, over his chest, and he smirked into his mouth when he squeezed between his legs. "Jesus Christ, you're already hard. You want this."

"Wanting and allowing are two different thi- oh, fine, let's get this over with."

He brought him back to his lips violently and kissed him with the same attitude - Nines vaguely wondered whether LaCroix was trying to bite his tongue out. Ah well, it would grow back.

"Be quick," he said suddenly, pushing Nines away to stand, leaning at the edge of his desk. "That fledgeling may be back soon."

"Hm, you sure you don't want him to see me fucking you over your desk?"

"Quite sure, thank you."

Nines snorted, one hand going to his tie and yanking it free whilst the other fiddled with his buttons. LaCroix wore so many fucking layers, his sex-buzzed brain was tempted to just rip it all off.

"Why the fuck do you wear all this, anyway? You don't get cold," muttered Nines as he opened him up. LaCroix groaned, muffling himself with a mouth clamped shut as Nines palmed his dick.

"Some of us - ah! - put a semblance of thought into our appearance."

He didn't reply, opting instead to expose his torso; he hadn't had the opportunity to see him properly undressed in the theatre as it had been a quick, rough fuck from behind. He'd expected the man to be small and weak or maybe a little soft under all those clothes, since he assumed he'd spent his time alive far away from any sort of manual labour, but was pleasantly surprised to see he was firm and trim. Not as big as himself, of course, but not bad at all. He traced his abs and grabbed his hipbones, growling with want as he shoved his completely coat away.

"Not on the floor, you fucking savage!" he hissed, picking it up and throwing the coat over his desk.

Nines smirked. "Never heard you swear before - isn't it beneath you?" he mocked.

"Rodriguez, are you here to sodomise me or not?"

"Alright, alright! Someone's eager."

He shoved him by the shoulder before he could reply, pinning him down and grinding their cocks together. LaCroix let out a long, shuddering moan and Nines groaned too, because damn, cammy Prince or not, he had a hot blond guy underneath him and he felt amazing against his dick. There were definitely too many clothes in the way now, so he grabbed LaCroix's waistband to wrench it down and at the same time unzipped himself, grabbing both of them in his hand and rutting their cocks together. LaCroix's fairly average cock was small next to his own, he noted smugly - it fit nicely in his hand.

LaCroix moaned as he was held against his own desk, thrusting up against Nines. He wanted to be inside of him /right fucking now/, but... damnit, how were they gonna do this? "I don't have any lube. Want me to open you up with my tongue?" he growled.

He could see the deliberation in LaCroix's lust-hazy eyes as he processed the words.

"That would take too long," he finally said, voice awfully breathy for someone who didn't need to breathe. "Top drawer on the left."

In the drawer was three packs of blood and two bottles of lube, one half empty. Fuck, that turned him on, how often did he get fucked in here? Did he finger himself when he got lonely? Before he could get lost in thought, he squirted the lube over his fingers and hoisted one of his long, pale legs up, glimpsing that pretty little hole under his perineum and rubbing a finger around the rim. Apparently very sensitive there, LaCroix spread his legs even wider for him, gasping at the contact. It didn't help the impatient ache screaming from Nines' dick. He rubbed his finger on him teasingly to see a reaction like that again, bordering on but never quite reaching penetration.  
  
"Inside, now!" demanded LaCroix, and Nines didn't know if he'd just been mind controlled or if it was just the desperate tone of the man's voice that made it impossible to say no. He thrust his finger in to the knuckle, twisting it and feeling how tight he was. "Yes, get on with it," he sighed, voice somehow simultaneously pleased and impatient. Who was he to argue with that? He pushed in another finger inside, felt how he opened up around him, saw how he writhed desperately when he added a third.

LaCroix looked much less punchable like this, Nines decided; lying half-naked across his desk with his hair messed up, his spread legs jerking whenever Nines pressed at just the right spot. His throat tensed so nicely whenever he made a noise, and Nines couldn't help but wrap his fingers round it as he thrust his fingers in forcefully at the same time - and of course LaCroix loved it, the fucking pervert. But what Nines did not expect was a sharp spike through his wrist, followed by a deep, intoxicating pleasure through every vein in his body. LaCroix had taken the opportunity to latch onto his wrist to hungrily drink him down, and that was the final straw. The Ventrue looked up at him questioningly when he pulled his fingers out, and in response Nines just grabbed his knees and pushed them closer to his chest, bending the smaller man so that his painfully hard cock brushed up against his prepped hole.

"Ready?"

"Do it."

And so Nines did, thrusting into the wet and welcoming body beneath him. "God!" shouted LaCroix, head rolling back and eyes squeezed shut. His nails raked across Nines' back and he wrapped a leg around his hip, whining and needy.

"You feel so fucking good," groaned Nines. LaCroix's ankle tapped his ass encouragingly like Nines was a fucking horse, but he was too horny to get annoyed at the gesture. He started to thrust slowly at first, working the Prince open before he picked up a steady rhythm in and out. LaCroix sat up to eagerly watch where Nines' cock disappeared into himself, until he closed his eyes when he started to really get fucked. He cried out with one hard thrust angled just right, clenching around him so perfectly. Losing himself in the feeling of his tight ass around his cock as well as the sight of LaCroix impaled and moaning for him, Nines thrust hard enough to shake the desk, faster and faster as the man below rolled his hips to meet his every movement eagerly.

"Think you can come just from me fucking you?" growled Nines in his ear, kissing his neck.

"Yes, yes, do not stop, I will kill you if you stop!" he replied. His voice slipped into a slight French accent towards the end, and Nines swore he somehow got even harder when he realised he was fucking him too hard for him to speak English properly. It was all too much, he couldn't think straight - operating mostly on instinct and the justification that LaCroix had done the same, Nines opened his mouth and bit into his throat.

It tasted just as good as he remembered, blood spilling over his face from his messy bite. The ungodly wail that erupted from LaCroix in response almost made Nines worry that his Sheriff would come rushing to his defense, but the thought didn't last, not when he saw him come between the two of them, head thrown backwards, digging gashes into Nines' back. Nines couldn't hold himself back then, he buried his face in his neck and filled him up, groaning as he continued to thrust through his own orgasm.

LaCroix let out what could only be called a whimper as the pace slowed, and when Nines opened his eyes, he saw that the Ventrue was glassy-eyed and very thoroughly fucked-out. He pulled out to see the lube and cum dripping down the Prince's leg as he lay limp across his own desk, and god, Nines just wanted to fuck it back into his wet, messy hole... but no. He would be nice for now.

Just as suddenly as it had all started, it was over. LaCroix pushed him away when he came down from his high, refusing to meet his eyes.

"So," started LaCroix finally.

"Yeah, so. Is this gonna be a regular thing?"

"God, I don't know-" he started, before cutting himself off. "Do not be presumptuous. This will continue for as long as I allow it."

LaCroix was quick to dress like he hadn't just been fucked within an inch of his unlife, firmly back into his "very serious and intimidating vampire" mode. When Nines himself had finished throwing his clothes back on and looked back at him, he was adjusting his hair, looking in the glass of his window. He couldn't help smirking at the sight. Poncy dick.

"I thought Ventrue didn't have reflections."

"You're thinking of the Lasombra."

"Oh yeah. You just puke a lot, right?"

He could have sworn he heard a quiet laugh from him, but his face was blank when he turned back to face him. "Have you ever met a Lasombra?"

He frowned at the slightly random question. "Uh, no. Don't think so."

"Many conflate them with the Ventrue, as you just did, but that's not accurate," he said, walking back over to Nines. "They're actually rather vile creatures who may play at being kings, but are unfit to rule civilised society-"

"And the same isn't true for you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "No, it is not. What I was going to say was that certain kindred, myself and perhaps even yourself included, are simply more fit for leadership, wouldn't you agree? There's nothing wrong with the fact that it isn't for everyone. Under the Camarilla, those that should be in charge are in charge, and though most of those numbers are made up with Ventrue, it isn't always the case-"

"Jesus Christ LaCroix, if you're going where I think you are with this, let me just tell you it's gonna take a lot more than your ass to sell me the Camarilla."

"I understand that you have a bias against the sect, but the reality is that even a Brujah such as yourself could become a respected member-"

"Weren't you just talking about how all Lasombra aren't fit to be in charge of anything because they're scum?"

"Well yes, but that's- nevermind. If you will not listen to what I have to say, perhaps it's time for you to leave. I have much to attend to, and I imagine you should get back to... whatever it is that you do."

"Yeah, you're right. Try not to think too hard about how you just got fucked by the only guy who doesn't put up with your bullshit, can't imagine that would go over well with your minions," said Nines, turning to the door. "That was fun. See you around, princess."  
  
"Get out and do not call me that."

 

\---

 

LaCroix clenched his hands under his desk as he watched Nines leave and his Sheriff reenter the room. He knew he should have been ashamed of what had just happened, having been fucked on Nines' whim, but the shame would not come and a deep sense of satisfaction sat firmly in its place.

It could, he supposed, be blamed on the blood bond that the two of them were so irresponsibly forming, as could the strange fondness he was rapidly developing for the man he'd previously fantasised about killing, one more. Admittedly, the loss of control that had led him to biting Nines again was concerning - in the past, he'd always been perfectly capable of intercourse without giving into base instincts and bathing in the other man's blood, but on both occasions with Nines, he had slipped. It was not like himself to take such a risk simply for an unsavory dalliance, and not something he intended on repeating. At least Nines had bitten him in return - that fact put them on equal footing, and made it far less likely that he would end up the blood slave of a Brujah half his age. He restrained himself from smirking at the sheer ridiculousness of the image. No, that was not the way that things were to go.

But then, perhaps the other way around...

He attempted to resume reading what he'd been in the middle of before being so rudely interrupted, but his mind would not stop straying towards opportunities brought on by these new developments. The possibility of totally blood bonding Nines was not something he'd considered - not so long ago, he would have thought the notion laughably implausible to the point of being absurd - but now, he could not stop thinking of how it lay within his grasp. He indulged himself to imagine, for just a moment, having one of the most influential, strong and rather handsome Anarchs in his city secretly at the his beck and call, a central pillar of that wretched movement rendered useless to all but him. Perhaps a healthy dose of sabotage would help him finally gain some stability in Los Angeles, and though he knew such a method was not exactly dignified, he could not deny its appeal. And whilst it was true that Nines hadn't been particularly receptive to his attempts to sway him, he was confident that he could break the man down. After all, his Sheriff had not been willing to submit to him at first, either.

A knock sounded on his office door, and he knew he had no more time to dwell on the matter. He found himself nonetheless in a contented mood for the rest of the evening, even when the fledgeling was as rude and disrespectful as always, even as he sat through a meeting with that one primogen who would simply not shut up and even as he had to deal with one of the most repulsive Nosferatu he'd seen a quite some time. It all seemed of little importance now, compared to the ache on his skin where sharp fangs had pierced his throat, and all other thoughts seemed... faded, next to the itch to make Nines his own. Even the most alarming political intrigue struggled to hold his attention, displaced by the memory of blue eyes and large hands, and of stubble scraping against his skin.

If he had been a less arrogant man, he might have admitted that he didn't know whether himself or Nines should have been more concerned about what they were getting into.

But he wasn't. So he did not.


End file.
